Mingo and the Spanish Horse
by highland laurel
Summary: A wandering Spanish war horse appears causing Daniel and Mingo to revisit the Spanish garrison on the Mississippi. Contains references to the episode "Gabriel".
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Mingo felt a tug on his line and flipped the trout onto the bank beside his booted feet. He quickly snatched the fish before it could thrash loose from the hook and slip back into the river. It was about the same size as the other dozen or so that he had already caught that afternoon. He slipped the slender rope through the gills and threw the catch back into the river to keep cool. Another two or three and he would quit for the day and try to entice Becky Boone to fry them. She seldom refused anything that he asked. There was a very warm friendship between the two, built from years of trust and affection.

He rebaited the hook with an inch-long grasshopper and tossed the line back into the river. The late afternoon sunlight sparkled on the water and the gentle current had a hypnotic effect on his nervous system. He leaned comfortably against a large willow and began to doze. The water lapped beneath the bank and the leaves rustled a soft lullaby. The sun slid in its orbit, the light warmly lying across his lower legs and leather-clad feet.

Years on the frontier had honed his senses. Even though dozing he was aware of the sound of slow footfalls approaching from behind. His mind automatically classified the sound as belonging to either two men or a large animal. Fully wakened instantly, he soundlessly grasped his hatchet in his right hand as the measured sound continued. Whatever or whoever it was, they were now only a few feet away on the other side of the tree. Two more steps, and Mingo was certain that the footsteps belonged to a large animal. He slightly relaxed and curiosity replaced caution. As he turned his head over his right shoulder a warm, soft muzzle brushed the side of his face. 

Startled, Mingo jerked his head away and threw his hand up in a gesture of protection. Facile lips mouthed his hand and grassy breath blew past his face. He looked up into the dark eyes of a large horse. The two front hooves were pressed beside his leg as though the animal was seeking human contact. Mingo slowly rose and stroked the horse's beautifully marked face. He stepped beside the animal and ran his hand along the arched neck beneath the long light mane. The horse stood completely still, his eyes partially closed with pleasure at the Cherokee's touch. A low nicker escaped from deep in the horse's throat. As the man continued to run his hands along the animal's body the horse leaned into the caressing touch. 

Mingo stepped back and looked the animal over with experienced eyes. The horse was tall, well-muscled and well configured. He was a dark dappled grey with a silvery mane and tail. There was a comet-shaped white mark in the center of his forehead and both ears were dark grey at the tips. The skin around the eyes was also dark grey. The velvety muzzle was likewise the same. The expressive eyes were intelligent and communicated trust. When Mingo bent to raise a hoof the horse responded by lifting the hoof without any pressure on the man's part. Surprised, Mingo checked the hoof for soundness and was gratified to note the healthy frog and hard outer covering. When the man moved in front of the animal to check the teeth, the horse opened his mouth with only a light touch on the jaw. The horse was young, not much more than a juvenile. Mingo carefully moved around the horse's body but could see no brand or mark of identification anywhere on the magnificent body. 

Deciding to take the horse with him to the Boone's cabin, Mingo pulled in his fishing line and gathered his catch. The horse watched every move with pricked ears and alert eyes. When the man pulled his whip from around his knife to use as a lead rope, the horse backed away. Obviously he understood what a whip could do. His trusting eyes had taken on an expression of wariness. Mingo replaced the whip and the horse immediately stepped forward. Slowly the animal placed his head on Mingo's shoulder, the expressive eyes transmitting a heightened level of trust. Mingo again caressed the horse's smooth neck, then turned to begin the short journey to the Boone's cabin. Right behind him, his soft nose brushing the man's neck at every step, strode the dappled grey Spanish horse.

Israel Boone saw Mingo and the horse approaching his family's cabin at dusk. Waving his hand, the little white-haired boy rushed to meet them. Mingo raised both hands in a gesture of restraint, and Israel slowed his headlong gallop. Excitedly the boy questioned the tall man.

"Where'd you find him? Is he yours? Can I ride him? Did you buy him?" Israel's high-pitched voice caused the horse to swivel his ears. Mingo petted the horse's neck to calm him.

"He found me, Israel. I don't know who he belongs to. I also don't know if he is broken to ride. You can help me find the answers to all these questions after supper. Do you think I might persuade your mother to cook these fish for us?" Mingo stretched out his hand and gave the string of fish to Israel.

"Sure can! Ma'll be glad to have these. We've been havin' so much venison lately that I'm beginnin' to grow antlers!" Israel giggled as Mingo reached under his three-cornered hat to massage his forehead.

"I don't feel any. I think that I brought you a change of diet just in time!" Mingo grinned at the shared joke. Daniel Boone stepped out of the cabin at the sound of their voices. His brown eyebrows raised in surprise as he surveyed his friend's traveling companion. Israel passed by his father and took the fish into the cabin. Daniel gave the boy an affectionate pat as he passed.

"Where'd you find him?" Daniel asked, gesturing at the horse standing behind Mingo's right shoulder.

"Actually, as I was just explaining to Israel, he found me. He's young, but very well trained. By the look of him I'd say that he is a Spanish Andalusian. Or maybe a young Lipizzaner."

"A which?"

"Breeds fashioned for war by the rulers of Europe in medieval times. Very special animals. Very select breeding. Owed by only the best families, closely guarded and protected. "

"Then what would he be doin' in frontier Kentucky?"

"My question exactly. But I don't think that he will tell us. He seems quite tight-lipped." Mingo's own lips curled and his entire face glowed with his own special expression of humor.

"Well, let's tie him inside the stable with the cow. Say, you don't have a rope on him. How'd you get him to come with you?"

"I didn't. He just followed me. He seems to like me."

"Well, you always did have a fondness for the horses. And they seemed to prefer you. Anytime we took a trip that involved a horse, you always took responsibility for it."

"Daniel, I think that was due more to the fact that you strode out with those long legs of yours and LEFT me with the horse!" The two friends chuckled together as they walked to the log stable, the grey horse continuing to walk contentedly behind Mingo's right shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After breakfast the next morning Mingo, Daniel and Israel released the horse and began to investigate the animal's degree of training. Looping a soft rope around the horse's nose and head to use as a kind of bridle, Mingo prepared to pull himself onto the animal's back. Daniel stood at the horse's head, holding the rope to steady the horse if need be. Grasping a lock of the horse's mane, the tall Cherokee easily leaped onto the grey back. The horse seemed completely at ease, only shifting his one front foot to distribute the weight more evenly. Daniel released his grip on the rope and Mingo pressed his heels into the horse's ribs to indicate that he wanted a forward motion. With his beautifully formed head held high, the Spanish horse walked forward. After a few steps, Mingo pulled back on the rope with a steady pressure and the animal walked backward. Laying the rope on the animal's neck, Mingo indicated a left turn. The horse performed perfectly. Mingo and Daniel exchanged looks of satisfaction.

Pointing the horse's head toward a level stretch in the direction of the fort, Mingo lightly kicked the animal's flank. Instantly the horse broke into a smooth gallop that quickly ate the ground beneath them. The sensation of flying was very pleasant, and the horse's gait was as smooth as any Mingo had ever experienced. He sat leaned slightly forward as the wind rushed through his long black hair and blew the heavy braids out past his shoulders. A few yards before the fort's gates he pulled the horse to a walk. The sentry on the wall had alerted the stockade to Mingo's headlong flight, and several men streamed out of the gate and grabbed the horse's rope.

"What's wrong?" "Are the Boone's alright?" "Is it an attack?" Nervous voices rose around him from all sides. Mingo raised his hand for quiet. The grey horse stood still under him, large dark eyes wary of the people pressing him on all sides. Before Mingo could answer, one of the settlers a little less wise in the ways of horses brushed against the animal's left back leg. Instantly the horse kicked out with both hind legs, sending the settler flying several yards through the air to hit hard upon the packed earth. 

The surrounding men exclaimed in alarm and the Spanish horse reacted to the shout by wheeling and kicking out again. Mingo tried to calm the horse with both voice and touch, but the stallion continued to circle causing the pressing settlers to back away several feet. After many tense seconds the horse relaxed. He stood at the center of a vacant circle, completely ringed by the Boonesborough settlers. Mingo was embarrassed by the situation. He slid off of the horse and firmly grasped the rope. Three men and Cincinnatus were bent over the prone man that the horse had kicked. He lay unmoving on the ground. Several of the other men were eyeing Mingo with anger.

"What do you mean, ridin' into the settlement like that and scaring ever'body? Ain't you got more sense?" Silas Barker was an outspoken man, rough but usually fair. The tension of the situation made his question more sinister than he intended and two men stepped closer to Mingo, their faces red with anger. As they entered the vacant circle, the horse laid his ears back and bared his teeth. Surprised, the two men took a step back. All of the men that had seen the horse's reaction began to talk at once, and the horse lowered his head and pawed the ground nervously. Mingo stroked the animal's neck to settle his agitation. 

"Gentlemen, if you will lower your voices the horse will settle down. He is a Spanish war horse, and he is simply reacting to what he perceives is a threat. "

"Where'd you get a Spanish war horse?"

Mingo explained the situation to the ring of men just as he had explained to the Boone family fourteen hours previously. The knot of men exchanged glances, some suspicious, some curious, and some hostile. It was plain to the Cherokee that all the settlers didn't accept his answer. The unconscious man had been carried into the fort and most of the men followed soon after Mingo's explanation was complete. A handful remained looking at the Spanish horse from a safe distance. 

"He is a beauty, I'll say that." The blacksmith was usually a quiet man, but over his lifetime he had seen many, many horses. "I've never seen one like him. Where do you suppose he came from?" The small man reached out a practiced hand and stroked the horse's muscled flank. 

"I really don't know. But my guess would be from the Spanish lands to the west. How he got this far into Kentucky is a puzzle to me too." Mingo rubbed the horse's muzzle, and the horse responded by laying his nose on Mingo's shoulder. The blacksmith saw the exchange and shook his head.

"Seems to have claimed you, that's for sure. What are you goin' to do with him?"

"I don't know that yet either. I think while I am here I will write out a notice to display on the signboard of Cincinnatus' store. Maybe someone will see it and recognize the animal."

The blacksmith gave the horse a final pat and returned to his shop. Mingo walked to the hitching post in front of Cincinnatus' tavern and slipped the rope through the iron ring. The horse relaxed one hip and closed his eyes. Mingo completed his business in a short time, received welcome information on the man that the horse had kicked, and rode back to the Boone cabin.

When he returned from the fort and told of his experience there, Daniel, Israel and he spent the remainder of the morning grooming the horse. They brushed most of the dirt from his coat, then washed him with a little of Becky's lye soap. They had removed the burrs from his mane and tail and brushed the long hair until it shone. They all agreed that he was a beautiful speciman.

That afternoon Israel sat on the back of the tall horse as Mingo held the lead rope and walked a mile or so away from the cabin. Israel questioned Mingo about Spanish horses, and in the course of their conversation Mingo began to tell Israel the story of Don Quixote. Into his mind flashed the perfect name for the Spanish horse: Rocinante. This was the name that Don Quixote gave his "war horse", though in actuality it was a broken down cart horse. But in the mind of the disillusioned hero Rocinante was a fiery stallion. Since the grey was a true war horse the name seemed to fit, and Mingo was pleased with his choice. Israel became quiet as the story bloomed in his mind, and the mile journey back to the cabin passed quickly.

After supper Mingo walked out to the stable to ponder his options concerning Rocinante. He stood in front of the horse and gently ran both hands down the thick arched neck. The horse's dark eyes closed and he whickered softly with pleasure. Mingo had to admit to himself that he was already very fond of the animal. But his heightened sense of honor made it difficult to think of keeping him. He knew that a horse as spectacular as this one belonged to someone else. The most likely owner was at Ste. Genevieve since there was a Spanish garrison there. He was reluctant to travel there, however, as he and Daniel had been treated unfairly by the commander of the fort. The thought that this magnificent animal may be owned by that pompous, arrogant man made Mingo's heart burn at the injustice. Still, he decided that he should investigate the possibility as it was the honorable thing to do. He laid his head against the horse's muzzle for a brief minute and then stepped through the stable door and into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Daniel decided to accompany Mingo and Rocinante to Ste. Genevieve. As he explained to Mingo, only partially in jest, "You'll just get yourself into trouble without me. I'm goin'." Mingo's reply was that the trouble usually came because of something DANIEL did, not himself, but he welcomed the frontiersman's company. They were outfitted and ready by the next morning to set off with the rising sun at their backs. 

Israel begged Mingo not to take the horse to Ste. Genevieve, pointing out that the animal was very fond of the Cherokee man and his choice of masters should be honored. "Israel, it is not honest to do what you are suggesting. It may be that I come back here with Rocinante. We don't know. But I must do what is right. You wouldn't want me to behave dishonorably, would you?" Mingo's dark brown eyes held the little boy's blue ones. His face wore a tender expression that was very familiar to the entire Boone family. The three adults stood and waited for Israel's answer.

Israel dropped his eyes and softly replied, "No sir. I don't want you to do somethin' dishonest." Then his blonde head rose and he looked Mingo full in the eyes. "But I do want you to come back with him. And that ain't wrong, is it?"

"No, son, that's not wrong. I confess that I want the same thing. Here, before I go, I want to give you something." Mingo reached into his pouch and brought out a wisp of silver hair. He had cut it from the horse's mane to give to Israel as a keepsake, a remembrance of the Spanish horse. Israel took it from Mingo's hand and passed it through his little fingers. He nodded his thanks, hugged the tall man, and went back into the cabin. Becky kissed Daniel goodbye, waved at Mingo, and followed her son. The two men and the Spanish horse began their journey. As they walked rapidly toward the west, the horse paced himself behind Mingo's right shoulder, his velvety muzzle against Mingo's head, his warm breath breezing Mingo's cheek. 

Within a fortnight they were camped only a few miles from Ste. Genevieve. The thickly wooded land created dark heavy shadows well before the sun set. The horse had followed Mingo the entire distance from Boonesborough, never breaking the stride that matched the man's. Several times Daniel mentioned how unusual the horse's behavior was, sometimes even joking that the Indian must have put some kind of "spell" on the animal to make it act so. Mingo always returned the jest, but in his secret heart he was worried that if the horse did belong to someone at the fort he would be unable to graciously give up the wonderful horse.

As the two men bedded down for the night Rocinante continued to stay within sight of the campfire, grazing. Ghostly white in the moonlight, the Spanish horse lent an unearthly aspect to the camp. Mingo's eyes followed the beautiful animal and Daniel noted the expression on his friend's face. Pursing his lips, the Kentuckian sighed. He knew how attached Mingo was to Rocinante. 

The fire burned low, and the two men rolled in their blankets to sleep. There was no need to stand guard as the Spanish horse was a very effective alarm. They slept deeply and rose as the dawn light reached rosy fingers into the thick timber. Rocinante was standing relaxed over Mingo, his heavy head inches from the man's chest. Mingo's first action upon waking was to gently pet the grey muzzle. Then he rolled away from the horse and stood, stretching. Beside him Daniel did the same. The two men breakfasted on coffee and jerky, then broke camp and began the final leg of their journey.

The sentry at the fort called for them to halt just outside the gates. A Spanish officer strutted through the massive gate accompanied by two private soldiers, muskets pointed at the two frontiersmen. In halting English and broken Spanish the three men conversed. Mingo and Daniel were escorted into the stockade. The Spanish horse continued to follow at Mingo's shoulder, though his large brown eyes had taken on an expression of disquiet. As they walked farther into the compound the horse's steps slowed, and Mingo placed his hand on the animal's neck as both a comfort and guide. From the commander's cabin came the sound of rapid speech as the commander scolded some unfortunate soldier. The Spanish horse laid his ears back at the sound, and Mingo was instantly alerted. He continued to stroke the dappled neck and began to whisper soft calm words into the horse's flattened ear.

Out of the cabin burst the Spanish commander. He wore a smile of cruel power as he crossed the parade ground. Beside Mingo the horse tensed and backed away to stand behind the man he had claimed as his own. Mingo and Daniel exchanged a look of understanding. The commander continued to advance and extended his soft hand to Daniel.

"How unexpected to see you again, Senor Boone. And your Indian friend also. I see that I owe you thanks for bringing Relampago Blanco back to me. I have greatly missed him. He is a magnificent animal, as you can see." Here the Spanish commander reached out a hand to the horse, who shifted to stand on Mingo's other side. No one in the stockade missed the horse's action. Men on the stockade wall exchanged knowing glances. The commander blushed but smiled crookedly in an attempt to hide his anger. 

Out of the stockade's stable walked a small man with bright red hair. His blue eyes sparkled with delight in seeing the Spanish horse. Beside Mingo Rocinante bugled. Startled, Mingo turned his head to look at the approaching man. The horse stepped excitedly toward him. The commander spoke without moving.

"Take Pago to his quarters and groom him. Tie him TIGHTLY this time. If he runs away again, you will pay the price. Do I make myself clear?" The commander spoke in English so that his two unwelcome guests would have no doubt that he was in change of both the horse and the garrison. Then he wheeled on his heel and entered his office, slamming the wooden door. 

The groom stood beside Rocinante and ran his hands down the horse's arched neck as Mingo had been doing for the past weeks. The horse laid his head on the man's thin shoulder, and the gesture made a knot rise in Mingo's throat. The groom turned and the Spanish horse followed him exactly as he had followed Mingo. Turning to Daniel, Mingo gestured that they should leave the stockade and head back to Boonesborough. As they were about to pass through the gate, the groom shouted at them. He gestured for them to follow him and the horse into the stable. Exchanging a puzzled look, the two tall Kentuckians did as he bade them.

Inside the stable the groom led Pago into his own large box and shut the gate. He measured out a small amount of oats and poured them into the manger. As the horse crunched the oats, the groom told Daniel and Mingo about Pago's escape.

In halting English the small man explained that he himself had released the horse weeks ago. He had made it look like Pago had chewed the rope around his neck and run through the open gate. The guard at the gate had been severely punished for the escape, and the groom felt badly about that, but he felt no sorrow about releasing the horse. The commander was as cruel to the horse as he was to the men. Hanging his head, he disclosed that he loved the horse and though he knew that he could never possess so wonderful an animal he couldn't stand to see the commander misuse the horse. Could the two men somehow take Pago back with them?

Mingo and Daniel frowned as they listened to the tale. Daniel began to explain why they couldn't steal the horse when Mingo raised his hand to stop Daniel's flow of words. A light began to shine in the Cherokee's dark eyes and Daniel could see that an idea was growing in his friend's agile mind. Mingo nodded to the groom and grasped Daniel's arm, pulling him a few feet away to discuss the idea.

After Mingo explained his idea, Daniel stood looking into his friend's brown eyes. A smile slowly grew until it became the familiar lopsided grin. He nodded and Mingo returned the grin. Then the two men waved to the groom and left the stable, heading to the commander's quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"It is impossible!" De Vaca bellowed at Mingo. "Relampago Blanco is my horse. I bought him before I left Spain. He has been trained for a man such as myself. One who can make use of his special talents. You have no training in using a horse in battle. Why should I wager him and chance losing him to you?"

"Because, commander, you have every confidence that El Toro will humiliate me in front of the whole garrison. Is it not your belief that a Spaniard can easily conquer any Indian? And also because El Toro seeks revenge against me for so poorly losing our last contest. Is this not so?" Mingo's words were calculated to prick the commander's vanity. 

"Not that I am considering your proposal, but what are you willing to wager?"

"My entire catch of this winter's furs."

"And what guarantee do I have that you will work to fulfill your agreement?"

Mingo clenched his jaw at this insult and his dark eyes flamed. He relaxed his face with effort. "I will sign a contract. Give me a pen and paper and I will write it now."

The two men stood facing each other suspiciously. After several seconds, Mingo shook his head and began to turn away toward the door. He spoke as he turned. "I thought that you were a bold and decisive man. I thought that honor was important to you. I thought that you sought revenge for my part in helping Gabriel escape from this garrison. Apparently I was mistaken." 

The Spanish commander sucked in his breath at the insults. His anger took hold of him as MIngo hoped that it would, and he thrust paper and quill at the Cherokee. "I will dictate the terms. You will write as I speak. Then we will see who is honorable!"

The contest was to be early the next morning. All afternoon Mingo practiced with his whip, Daniel assisting him every way that he could. The two men set up targets of varying sizes at various distances. Mingo's accuracy was tested in as many ways as they could devise. When it was no longer light enough to see clearly, Mingo sat and manipulated his whip to make it as supple as possible while Daniel cooked the evening meal of rabbits snared in their sets. They retired early.

At dawn the next morning Mingo and Daniel presented themselves at the Spanish fort. They were allowed inside by a grinning soldier. The entire garrison was turned out to watch the contest. Across the compound El Toro stood confidently, his heavy face set in a sneer of contempt. Mingo nodded to his opponent and uncoiled his whip. Targets had been created against the stockade walls. Inside circles of various sizes were small bits of colored cloth. These were loosely tacked in place. Lines had been drawn on the ground at graduated distances from the circles. 

The commander strode haughtily from his quarters. At the edge of the stable the little red-haired groom stood with Pago beside him. The other soldiers stood on the parapet and parade ground, wagering pay not yet earned. Daniel nodded confidently to Mingo. The Cherokee strode to the closest line opposite the targets and waited for De Vaca to start the contest.

The commander motioned El Toro to his position on Mingo's left. Without saying a word, the commander beckoned El Toro to begin the contest. The large Spaniard flipped his whip and took off the piece of cloth in the circle's outer ring. Mingo did the same from his target. The contest continued until both men had cleaned the targets of their cloth pieces. Then soldiers tacked more cloth to the circles as the two men stepped back to the line several paces behind the first. Once again the cloth pieces were torn away by the lashing whips.

Minutes passed as the two men backed to the next line and continued the contest. At the last line, both men completely cleaned the targets of the cloth pieces. Then they faced each other and shrugged. The commander strode to the two and pushed them several feet apart. He called to his aide to bring more pieces of cloth which he affixed to each man's clothing. His meaning was plain. Mingo and El Toro would now be whipping bits of cloth off of each other's bodies. A miss could inflict a very painful injury. As the commander turned Daniel noticed the malicious eyes and expression of brutality. He said a silent prayer that Mingo would be able to free the Spanish horse from such a man. He also added that his friend not be badly injured by El Toro's flashing whip.

The new contest began. Mingo sliced a red piece of cloth off of El Toro's upper arm. El Toro did the same to Mingo. The two men continued for several more minutes until El Toro misjudged the position of a yellow bit of cloth attached to Mingo's leg. The whip stung painfully as a gash opened in the Indian's upper thigh. Blood seeped onto the blue cloth. Mingo ignored the wound and aimed for the same bit of cloth on El Toro's leg. Everyone in the stockade held his breath as the whip in Mingo's hand struck like a serpent at the huge Spaniard's leg. The bit of yellow cloth spun in the air and floated to the ground. Daniel and the groom grinned in delight. The soldiers of the garrison stood stunned. The commander spun on his heel and slammed the door to his quarters once again. El Toro stood dumbfounded in the center of the compound, then approached Mingo with his hand outstretched. He placed his own whip in the Cherokee's left hand and walked wordlessly to his own quarters. 

Daniel stepped to Mingo's side. "How bad is it?" he asked. Mingo shook his head and limped to the stable. The groom stood with a cloth bandage in his hand with which he bound the Indian's leg. Relampago Blanco affectionately rubbed his head against Mingo's shoulder. Raising his long-fingered hand, the man stroked the horse's beautiful face. The groom noticed the exchange. Sorrowfully, he turned to Mingo.

"You have fairly won this horse, Senor. You are very skilled. I know also that you will be good to him. He will be safe with you, I know it."

"You misunderstand, sir. I won Rocinante for you, not for me. I have little need for a horse, and one such as he should be with someone who understands just how special he is. It is my sincere wish that the two of you enjoy many happy years together."

The little groom stood open-mouthed beside the Spanish horse. As Mingo's words sank into his mind, he held out his hand. When Mingo took the hand, the little Spaniard squeezed hard and pumped for several seconds. His grin was wide and his blue eyes sparkled with happiness. Mingo smiled in return. 

"I will resign today. And then I will leave."

"Where will you go?" Daniel asked. Ever alert for tough new settlers, Daniel saw the potential in the little Spaniard. 

"To the sea, maybe. Maybe back to Spain, or into Mexico. Maybe I will join a traveling band of show people. What do you call them?"

"A circus?" Mingo ventured.

"Si, a circus. Pago would be very good in a circus I think. And someday we may come to your town and you can see us again. You would like that, hey Senor?"

Mingo nodded and smiled. "I would like that very much." He raised both hands and ran them down Rocinante's smooth neck one last time. The horse laid his grey muzzle on the Cherokee's shoulder, his warm cheek resting against Mingo's. They stood for the span of several second. Then Mingo pulled away from the horse and walked decisively out of the stable toward the stockade gate. Daniel nodded to the smiling little groom and followed his friend. 

They walked for several hours, traveling east. As the sun began to sink beyond the edge of the earth Daniel suggested that they stop for the night beside a little creek of clear running water. Mingo did not answer but carefully leaned his lower body against a boulder. The leg wound had crusted shut and was throbbing, the muscle twitching with the strain. Daniel went to the creek and soaked his handkerchief. He handed it to Mingo and then gathered wood for a fire. After nearly an hour was past, the coffee brewed and the jerky eaten, Daniel asked Mingo the question that he had been puzzling over for most of the day.

"MIngo, what did you call that horse? Rosy-somethin'? That's an odd name for so large and powerful a horse. That Spanish name seemed to suit him better, whatever it meant."

" 'Relampago Blanco' means 'white lightning'." Mingo gazed at the stars that littered the sky. "I called him Rocinante, Daniel. It is also Spanish. It's from a novel by Miguel de Cervantes." Mingo explained the story as he had weeks ago for Israel, adding information suited to an adult's perspective. When he finished, he sighed and closed his eyes. Beside him Daniel stared into the fire. Several minutes passed in silence. 

"Seems to me, Mingo, you're a lot like that Don Quixote fella."

"How's that, Daniel?" Mingo asked, his voice low and quiet in the deepening darkness.

"You see the value in other people that they don't always see themselves. And sometimes you see things in 'em that aren't really there, but because you see 'em that way, they ARE that way. Just don't start fightin' windmills or I'll have to rethink my opinion o' you!" Daniel's voice was light and jesting.

"Good night, Daniel," Mingo said softly. "And thank you."

"Good night, Mingo of La Mancha," Daniel teased. The tree frogs hummed and the crickets chirped. Mingo sighed deeply. He drifted off to sleep smiling as he wove a wisp of silvery mane through his long slender fingers.

CC March 22, 2008


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